


When It's All Said And Done, It All Changes

by heartofexplosions



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 08:22:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8616658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartofexplosions/pseuds/heartofexplosions
Summary: It's been just over a year since that fateful day, and then he hears a voice he never expected to hear ever again. 
a.k.a the reason why Greg doesn't seem scared or angry when Sherlock returns, instead more irritated and "thank god you're home safe"





	

Greg is shoving his backpack underneath the seat in front of him when he hears a voice he never expected to hear again. He sits up, leaning back in his chair to hear that voice again. It's higher than it used to be, but it's him, he's sure.

He raises shaking hand to his face, and he can't stop the unbidden tears that came to his eyes. If he'd been home, it'd have been a far more visceral reaction, like after he'd gotten home after Sherlock's suicide. He'd needed to buy a few more mugs after that.

The woman sitting next to him looks over at him, concerned. Noticing the distressed look and tears in his eyes, she passes him a tissue.

"Nervous flyer?" She asks.

He lets out a bitter laugh. "No, no. I'm fine with flying. I just," Greg sniffs. "had a revelation of something amazing."

She raises an eyebrow, but Greg shakes his head. "Later."

"Okay then, who are you, Mr Amazing Revelation?"

"Greg Lestrade. And you?"

"Stephanie Bellerose. I prefer Steph, though."

"Steph it is then."

Before she can say anything else, they're being given the air safety briefing, and they both sigh and lean back in their seats, listening with half an ear. Despite what the video or stewards tell you, the procedure is exactly the same for every airline he's ever been on.

It's only when they've levelled off that Steph speaks again. "Just as a warning, I sometimes get a bit travel sick, so if you want to move, I won't be offended.”

"I can handle some vomit, don't worry. Anyway, hopefully talking the entire way should help." He does, however, remove the sick bag from his chair and move it into hers.

She flashes him a grateful smile. "Greg Lestrade. I feel like I've heard your name somewhere before."

"I wouldn't be surprised. I'm a detective with the Met. I've been on the news once or twice."

"Detective, huh. What's that like?"

"It has it's moments. More than a few sleepless nights, very long days, lots of work, far too much paperwork. But there's good people with good hearts doing their best, but I enjoy it. The days where you catch those responsible? I like those a lot." He coughs. "Enough about me. What do you do?"

"I'm a doctor in Children's A&E in Hillingdon. Sleepless nights, long days and far too much paperwork are far too familiar."

"Children's A&E? I can't even imagine."

"Those good people with good hearts? Some days, those are the people that keep me going." Steph suddenly sits back, eyes closed, swallowing. Greg has seen that expression roll over far too many faces, and reaches for the sick bag in her chair hands it to her.

He watches as she breathes, an attempt to distract herself from vomiting. It doesn't work. As she leans forward, Greg realises her hair is down and pulls it back and holds it gently away from her face.

"Hair tie?" She offers her wrist and he pulls the black band off, and gently ties her hair in a loose ponytail.

When she's finished, and everything disposed of, she leans back in her chair. "Sorry about that."

"It was no trouble." He snorts a little. "It's not the first, and I doubt it'll be the last time I do that. It's become something of an occupational hazard.”

"Thank you, though.”

Nearer the end of the flight, Greg gets up and heads for the toilet near the rear of the plane. It's not that he necessarily needs the toilet, but he has to check if he was right about the voice. Lo and behold, six rows back is a familiar face.

The familiar face glances up at someone making their way down the aisle, and the eyes widen in shock. This was not anticipated.

  
Greg tears his eyes away, and carries on down the plane.

  
A few minutes and a minor freak out later, he walks back up the plane, and he can feel those familiar eyes on him as he walks back to his seat, but he refuses to look back.

  
Steph and Greg go through customs and baggage claim together, chatting amiably the whole way through. It’s with some amusement that they find out that they're staying at the same hotel, so instead of two separate taxis, they share one, and split the fare at the end. The journey is late afternoon, so it's a little easier to acclimate to the heat of Malta, than a midday trip would be.

  
They are in the same hotel, however, they aren't on the same floor, Steph being on the top floor, Greg on the one below. It's close enough.

  
They eat dinner the first night together, which Greg enjoys. He'd thought he'd be spending most of this holiday alone. The pair move into the lobby after their meal, and appreciate the cooler air in there.

  
“Divorced or separated?” She nods down at his hands. “You keep fiddling with that finger, and there's still a bit of an indent.”

  
He gives her a strange look that she can't quite decipher, but it dissipates quickly. “Divorced, finally.”

  
“Finally?”

  
“Ex and I were unhappy for far too long before we split. She kept cheating, I kept taking her back. We got back together briefly last year after a friend of mine died. She helped me through the grief, but we finally established that enough was enough. We’re in better terms now we're apart.”

  
“How long were you two together?”

  
“Nearly twenty years.” Greg noted her own lack of ring. “You ever been married?”

  
“I was engaged once, then I found out he was cheating on me with two other women. I invited them for dinner one night. You should've seen his face when he realised.” Greg smiled. It was vindictive, but he could appreciate some good revenge. “His excuses were ‘you're never home’ and ‘you're married to your work’ and all that shit.”

  
Greg snorts in amusement. “That sounds like the basis for probably half the arguments I ever had with Julia.”

  
Steph raised a glass. “Workaholics unite.”

  
Greg tapped his glass against hers. “Indeed.”

  
Steph yawns, and Greg looks at his watch. 9.25. “It's a bit ea- Shit. Forgot to change my watch.”

  
“What time is it then?”

  
“Nearly 10:30, however given that yawn, I think it's time to go to bed.”

  
“Agreed.”

  
Before going to bed, Greg heads out onto the balcony to have a cigarette. He rests in the chair, and it's only when he goes to flick the ashes off the end of the cigarette that he notices the note under the ashtray on the table.  

  
_Don't tell him, please. -SH_

**Author's Note:**

> I may extend this. Thoughts?


End file.
